Death comes to us all. There is no escape and it's unfortunate that we live in such fear of it. I don't fear my own death, in fact, earlier this year I came close to it with a serious complication of Crohn's Disease. What I do fear, is losing my loved ones, and to date, I've lost three of my family, the first being my beautiful brother, Gary, who took his own life.
My father and I had many conversations about death in the last two years of his life, and especially in the last few months. We both had our theories on where we go. Dad surprised me with one theory that he often discussed with me. He felt we may all be food for Aliens, not our physical body, but that somehow they feed off our energy. This blew my socks off coming from this 85 year old Irishman that would never entertain the thought of such things in his younger days. And, it is food for thought!
Eddie Doran left this planet just over a month ago at the time of writing this story, on the 28th September 2019 at around 5.30 a.m. The sneaky bugger slipped out quietly.
I miss him terribly.
On the afternoon before he died he was sent from the hospital to palliative care. I am lucky enough that I live across the road from the hospice and aged-care facility. My brother, Kevin, and, his wife, Mayu, were with me on the night he died as well as his long-lost friend, Carmel, who actually escorted dad in the ambulance to palliative so we could be at the other end when he arrived. Carmel stayed until 8.00 pm then left us to settle dad in.
We spent most of the night in his room, he was very unsettled and we knew he was close to dying but expected maybe he would live a few more days, or even weeks. We laughed with him, kissed him, gently held his hand and had a few beers with him. Dad didn't have any, but we did. When dad said to us "It's the end of the road", I smiled at him, held his hand and told him gently "Yes, it is, and you will finally be back with mum". He was comforted by that and smiled. Even in his last hours our father had the most infectious smile. What was hard for us is our dad was such a strong protective man, and now we were protecting him.
The Palliative Care nurses arranged for a bed for me to stay the night with dad. Kev, and Mayu were to sleep at my house, just across the road. They didn't leave until 2.00 a.m. as we all wanted to stay with dad to help make him feel secure. Before Kev and Mayu went back to my place, I asked Kev to go home and get a couple of my soft blankets for dad, because I don't like those the hospital cotton woven ones; they are awfully uncomfortable.
Dad seemed much more cosy in the soft blankets and he settled down and went to sleep while we stayed having our drinks and talked. We knew from experience, when mum died, that this is very comforting to dying people. The nurses gave dad some sedatives and morphine and we all decided it was time to get some sleep. Dad was very peaceful and sleeping soundly so we then decided to get some sleep too.
I didn't wake when the nurses kept coming into the room as I was exhausted. I was told later that a nurse came in at 5.00 a.m and then left because dad was OK. She returned again just as I was waking up at 6.00 a.m. As I was waking up I could hear a strange ringing noise like a phone ringtone, but not one that I have ever heard before, and that stirred me to wake up. No one else had heard it I eventually discovered when I asked the nurses later on that morning.
The nurse checked on dad and she whispered 'He's passed'. I sat up and said "What?" and again she gently whispered, "He's passed".
At that moment it seemed all time stood still and I was totally dumbfounded.
I jumped out of my bed and sat next to him, and laid on him and sobbed for a couple of minutes. I then called Kev, and they both came over within minutes.
We three hugged and grieved united. We spent a few hours with our now deceased dad and the nurses gave us breakfast when they asked us to leave the room so they could prepare his body.
After a while I went home with Mayu. Kev stayed with dad for three hours, even making him his favourite cup of tea. He didn't drink it of course! When the hearse arrived, Kev phoned to advise us to come back. We escorted his body to the hearse and said our goodbyes to our father until the funeral. That was probably the most confronting thing we have ever done together.
Dad died somewhere peacefully in his sleep somewhere between 5.00 a.m. and 6.00 a.m.
Later that day I needed some alone time, and I took myself to Nine Mile Beach. It was blowing a gale and there wasn't anyoe else on the beach, just me.
There were no birds, because it was too windy, and no shells washing up on the shore. I walked about 2 km then turned around to walk back, and as I did, two big seabirds flew past me, they looked like they were dancing and they were so happy, I can’t explain it! They then formed a circle above me and flew back and literally vanished; they looked like they were in bliss, and they were not just flying, they were dancing!
I instantly thought that it was a sign from mum and dad that they had been reunited. I took about 10 steps and then a beautiful large Cowrie shell (above) washed up by my feet! I yelled out “You two, are bloody legends”.
Shells are always a sign of encouragement for me from the spiritual world and here is a small collection of some I have been gifted (below).
Kevin and Mayu stayed with me for a number of days after dad died. One of these days I went to the gym and when I was about to pull into the driveway, Kev was leaving to find Mayu who had gone for a walk. I went into the house and wondered why Mayu had left my blue mop from the laundry by the door. I had only just steam mopped and vacuumed the floors when they were both out so the house was clean when I left. When I mentioned it in conversation later to them they both denied putting the mop there. They swear on their lives, and I know I didn’t use the blue microfibre mop because I had used the steam mop. This mop must have appeared out of the laundry into the lounge room in just the few minutes Kev left the house and I returned. I’m baffled! So are Kev and Mayu.
Two weeks ago, I had many dreams of dad. I couldn’t sleep so I was half awake and half asleep. In one of them he was still in the hospice sick but I told him “Dad you are dead, we cremated you” and he kept insisting that he was alive. There were other conversations but I can’t remember them. As well, in this dream, there were other people that I didn't recognise. My dream was longer than that but all time seemed to be intermixing, and, I can’t give you a timeline of the whole dream except the very last bit....
...Somehow, I was told that dad was leaving the Earth and departing on my beach (Nine Mile) where I found the shell. I was running very fast to the beach and it was empty except for a striped canopy tent that looked like a place of celebration; it was very inviting and I just had to get to it. I was bolting to it (that’s very significant on something I did when dad was admitted to palliative care*). As I was running the beach transformed into the whitest of whitest light I've ever seen.
The beach just transformed into this white light, at first I thought was a snow field but it was brighter and so, so beautiful. Some of the people that I don’t know in my dream were smiling at me, and the last person I saw was above me on a cliff looking down at me, and he was beaming with love and total bliss with immense love and joy, and then I woke up with my face physically smiling. It's hard to explain but I was beaming and I felt such joy. I believe I spiritually transitioned with dad that night.
I think the dream was showing me that dad had departed and he was in the light at last, after the trauma Kev and I had been through with another family member. I feel that this Being is my Spirit Guide. It's worth noting that prior to this dream I had a distinct clear vision of dad and he seemed distressed. I won't go into it here but he had good reason to be stressed due to some very disturbing issues that Kev, and I, were going through at the time. I am sure it was dad worrying about us and it kept him on the Earth plane for a while. I haven't had any more visions of dad since this dream and I know he has now moved on.
As I was waking up with the smile I distinctly heard a beautiful song about a river. We played “Life is A River” at dad’s funeral but it was not this song, it was even more beautiful. I woke up to me smiling and hearing the song about a river. Prior to dad dying my youngest brother had a vision when he was in mum and dad’s house (this would have been when dad was in and out of consciousness that night) he swears he saw mum and dad dancing and dad kept telling him he’s going to the river. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t even explain what it feels like to wake up from a dream and physically feel yourself smiling…beaming…and, to amazing music. I have no words!
I do know that my beautiful father has been reunited with mum who died four years ago and all he ever wanted was to be with her again.
At dad's funeral we all wore Irish hats as we pallbeared him in and out of the service. The funeral was held in an outside chapel overlooking the cemetery which is a peaceful and beautiful space in the country. Dad was a rugby referee; it was one of his life's love. My youngest brother wanted to blow dad's referee whistle but he was too distraught, so he asked Kevin to do it. As we placed dad's coffin back in the hearse to take him to the crematorium furnace, Kev blew the whistle and pointed to dad's coffin and yelled out "You're out!". Everyone laughed and I know dad would have loved his funeral. He was watching.
RIP Eddie Doran, you bloody legend! We love you for eternity.
Our eternal gratitude the the staff at Estia Tuncurry.